He trembles at the responsibility which he
has incurred by engaging the feelings of another. In the conflict of
his emotions, some rays of moral light break upon his darkened soul.
Profligacy brings its own punishment, and he feels keenly that man is
the subject of sympathy, and not the slave of self-love.
This remorse protracts a connection which each day is productive of more
painful feelings; but the heart cannot be overstrung, and anxiety
ends in callousness. Then come neglect, remonstrance, explanations,
protestations, and, sooner or later, a catastrophe.
But love is a dangerous habit, and when once indulged, is not easily
thrown off, unless you become devout, which is, in a manner, giving the
passion a new direction. In Catholic countries, it is surprising how
many adventures end in a convent. A dame, in her desperation, flies to
the grate, which never reopens; but in Protestant regions she has time
to cool, and that's the deuce; so, instead of taking the veil, she takes
a new lover.
Lady Aphrodite had worked up her mind and the young Duke to a step the
very mention of which a year before would have made him shudder.
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